


The Raven and the Wolf

by Tarvasha



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Demons, Explicit Language, F/M, Harassment, Humiliation, Infant Death, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarvasha/pseuds/Tarvasha
Summary: A young half-elf makes her way through life's trials as best she can.  The world seems to be against her at every turn, but she pushes forward, refusing to be crushed beneath the hardships so set upon her demise.Prelude is a long summary of her life (WIP), and proceeding chapters will be actual full stories from key points in her life.





	1. Character History - Prelude

Nearly 30 years ago in a arcane encampment in northern Kalimdor an elder Highborne gave birth to a half-elf, half-human daughter. Such a coupling was shunned by the greater populace as other half-breeds born under the thick magical energies we often malformed or stillborn. Tarvasha had been the first, and only, child produced by an experimental method that used the human's own innate magical abilities to ensure the child's survival.

The Highborne, named Shalandrala, had spent the majority of her life developing a new type of arcane magic that was capable of healing in ways akin to the Light. Seeing potential in a Kirin Tor research group who had been sent to study with the encampment, she made a voyage, herself, to Dalaran to trade knowledge and find a suitable sire for her child.

She found many old mages with many grandiose ideas, but none powerful enough or fertile enough to conceive. It was in a young man who she found what she was looking for. A bookish, intelligent, and latently powerful mage with auburn red hair and violet-blue eyes.

Shalandrala returned to her encampment and, several months later, gave birth to a healthy baby girl who, despite her pointed ears and narrow face, bore a striking resemblance to her father. Shalandrala imbued her power into the child so that she could carry and, perhaps one day, improve her restorative magic.

Despite a peaceful beginning, Tarvasha's mother became cruel and demanding over the next sesquidecade, pushing the young girl further into her studies. Many of the populace around them were also unkind and judgemental.  
One day, around her 15th birthday, Tarvasha had finally had enough of the constant teasing and brutish remarks laid against her. In order to look more human she took a blade to her ears, docking them and rounding them to look near-human. Upon discovering her mutilation, Shalandrala lost control of herself and beat her mercilessly.

The next morning, demons set foot into the camp and all hell broke loose.

Those who were not killed were taken as slaves or twisted and corrupted. Shalandrala herself was amongst them, with heavy implications that she was the orchestrator of this infestation. To this day, her name is spat upon and she is seen as a traitor to most of the inhabitants of Azeroth.

Tarvasha was the only one who managed to escape. She took a single blade and fled south into Azhara and further still into the desolate lands of Durotar. There, she was captured by Orc slavers and sent to a camp where she was used for service and fornication.  
The young woman bore 6 children during that time, all whom died in her womb or shortly after birth. She fell into a deep depression, but the other slaves of different races and the orcs who were willing to speak with her gave her strength to move forward. She learned about many different cultures during her time in the camp and discovered ways to interact with others in order to garner a sort of respect. So impressed was one young orc that he gave her the honor of facing him during coitus. Though it was a near unmentionable honor, it was enough of a show of respect to flutter her damaged heart.

Just short of six months later, she gave birth to a little boy. Small, but healthy. He was born without arms, but a strong heart and a strong cry. He looked like any other orc infant. Tarvasha gave him a strong name and waited for when the boy's sire might return. A few weeks later, she found herself face to face with him once again. There was a curious look on his face as he took the swaddled infant from her, and even a small glow of pride in his eyes before he unwrapped the baby from his blanket and found what Tara had been hiding.

The slight glow in his eyes was replaced with rage and what might have been hurt had he been anyone else. In his village, in a harsh land, babies who were born with any defect or illness were made sacrifices to feed the boars which would feed the rest of the village. Trying to care for a child who had a low chance of survival was seen as a waste of resources.

He announced his intention for the child's demise and sent Tarvasha into a panic. She screamed and cried at him and begged for the return of her child, but this only fueled his rage, having previously seen her as a human who might understand his kind. To end her pleas and protests, he crushed the child and carried its lifeless body out of the cell, leaving Tara in a state of shock that nearly killed her.

Over the next week she became feral, mutilating the hands, genitals, or faces of anyone who came close to her. After several beatings and death threats, she was given a final chance to die with a scrap of honor by entering a boar pit to face her death.  
By some stroke of luck, she survived the boar's onslaught and killed every last one of them. Unsatisfied with this outcome, the orc who sent her into this spiral of madness demanded another pack of boars be brought into the arena.

As they were about to send in the second wave, a nameless human gladiator stepped out from the sidelines and demanded she be released as she had survived an attack meant to kill her. They refused to honor his request, so he decided to fight in her place. He was told that unless he was related by blood or bonded as her mate, he would be unable to fight for her. The human agreed to take her as his mate, but was told he had to consummate the mating before he could make that claim. After several minutes of arguing and debate, he turned to Tara and asked what she had wanted. Her only response was that she did not want him to degrade himself for her.

He decided to take her, to the embarrassment of them both, and was then given permission to fight for her honor.

After easily disposing of the boars, he told her to leave Durotar and find a safe haven. She refused on the premise of being surrounded by Horde territory and requested to stay with him and his fellow gladiators. After permission was gained from their owner, Tara spent the rest of her time in Orgrimmar with human only known as Croc-Bait.

Shortly after their union, they were shipped out to Dire Maul with Rehgar's other gladiators. During this time, the group became closer, though Tara remained leery of the elves. Though she had limited interaction with blood elves and night elves, they were all a part of the same race that once spat on her for being different. Broll seemed just as wary around her, almost like he knew she was a half-breed. If he did, he never said anything about it.

During the fights in Dire Maul, Tara was allowed to watch. Should Rehgar's team die, she'd just be sold off to whoever would buy her. Much to the crowds' amazement, the human slaughtered through the battles nearly by himself. From the stands cries of "Lo'Gosh!" rang out and the amnesiatic gladiator finally had a name.

For the next two days, the team was allowed a celebration of sorts. Still confined to their cage, they were given hardy, exotic meals and good brew. Tara and Lo'Gosh found themselves closer than before and she even found herself able to coax a hint of a smile out of him.

The following day was a hard one. Valeera had been sold off to a Tauren to head her team and the group travelled to Thunder Bluff to procure her replacement. Broll and Lo'Gosh spoke in whispers through most of the journey.

When they arrived at at the Tauren capital, it was announced that the two gladiators wished to use the Pools of Vision. They were to dispel a cave elemental if they wished to use them safely and, after a time away, they returned having done just that. There was a renewed fire in Lo'Gosh, as though he had a purpose, something to hold on to. But Tara also noticed a wedge that had been shoved between them. She would ask about it when they were alone, but at that time, the group was being regaled with stories of Lo'Gosh's namesake.

Tara already knew of Lo'Gosh, the one her mother's people called Goldrinn. He had facinated her as a child, and she swore that she had seen glimpses of him in those times. She wasn't surprised to be drawn so close to someone who was given his name.  
Lo'Gosh was given a gift of a blue feather by Arch Druid Runetotem. There was a short exchange of words between Lo'Gosh and Broll and, without much warning, the two of them ran off, pursued by Rehgar's guards. Tara followed behind them and was just barely caught by Lo'Gosh after he'd cut down the bridge so the orcs could not follow. It was as though she had become an afterthought.

A great blue hippogryph landed before them at the top of Spirit Rise. The three, upon the back of the beast, were chased once more by Rehgar's men, but were able to dispatch them before heading north into Ashenvale.

Once there, they met up with a group of night elves, including a cousin of Broll's, and aided them in avoiding a sizeable orc ambush and turning the tide on the invaders. Broll's rage unleashed a madness of nature that nearly consumed him and the land around him, but Lo'Gosh was able to knock him into unconsciousness.

The next step in their journey was to purge the corruption from a totem that was once held sacred to the night elf. Tara stayed behind in Ashenvale while they embarked on the quest. She learned a few things from the night elves, and picked up a bit of the Darnassian language, but chose to not make abundant conversation with them.

Eventually, Broll and Lo'Gosh returned, albeit a bit torn up from battle. The three of them travelled north to Darnassus so that Broll might leave his totem in the care of Fandral Staghelm. After their business was finished, a messenger approached them, revealing that Tyrande Whisperwind wished to speak with the druid.

The men spoke of their adventures over dinner with the High Priestess, with little mention of Tara's involvement with either of them. It was then that Lo'Gosh's visions of his wife and son were revealed to her and she knew why his demeanor towards her had shifted so drastically.

Their next destination was Theramore Isle to speak with Jaina Proudmoore about the possibility of revealing more of Lo'Gosh's memories. A part of Tara was excited to know who he was and where he came from. But a greater part of her knew that their time together was coming to an end. He had a wife. A son. A family far away from her. She could not stay in Darnassus with the elves, so she would travel with them, but she decided that no matter the outcome, she would remain in Theramore and out of the human's life.


	2. The Slave Pens - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Durotar is facing drought and famine and, in order to keep its soldiers and citizens healthy, Orgrimmar has all but neglected its slaves.

Orgrimmar was as thriving an orc city as there could be in the scarce lands of Durotar. Amongst the usual shops and taverns laid a far more insidious fare. The slave pens of Orgrimmar had become closed in and unspoken. It was almost common knowledge that the Warchief had a distaste for slavery. Despite it being as seeped in tradition as any other part of orc culture, it was easy to neglect when there was so little to go around.

In one such pen, a young woman with long, ratted auburn hair sat against the bars of her prison. Tired violet-blue eyes stared listlessly across the tiny space she'd been given. Her lithe figure was powdered with dirt and dust, and equally filthy leathers hung from her frame. The shackles around her wrists rattled against the floor in the dark, dusty cell she had been forced into. It had been nearly seven years since she had been imprisoned by the orcish slavers. Why they still bothered with restraints was a mystery. Surely they knew that there was no sanctuary for her within hundreds of miles. They had to know that there was no possible way or reason for her to escape. Tarvasha hated the chains. She hated the noise they made when she was forced against the floor, or hung from the bars of her despicable prison.

There had been many changes in the last few months. The nearly drained resources of Durotar took their toll on all of Orgrimmar, but while the taverns and armories stayed stocked and cared for, other places of recreation, such as the slave pens, were hacked and slashed away at until they were down to bear essentials. Sometimes, not even that. She had heard several others in confinement cry and moan as hunger bit its nasty teeth into them. She wanted to believe that when the cries stopped, so did their hungers. She may have been half right.

A soft growl filled the air as her own stomach protested its lack of nourishment. She had been lucky up to this point, as slaves used for carnal pleasures were cared for more than the rest. But times were hard, and a human was a novelty at best. There were very few who returned to pay for her services. No payment for the slave masters meant no food for the slaves. Tarvasha was desperate, but hopeless. There was nothing she could offer that the clients couldn't just take themselves.

As she began to contemplate trying to compel the scorpid outside of her cage over to try and get a bite out of it, the door opened and a cactus apple was thrown inside.

"Eat up, bitch." It was Oog'tar. That slimy, honorless excuse for an orc. He regularly visited her cell on the most debilitating days such as when she was ill or had been injured. The dark skinned beast took his sweet time, too. Gods, how she hated him. "We've got a freak of a guest tonight and he chose you."

He stared at her as if waiting for something. When a half-second passed without whatever he might have wanted from her, he lunged forward and snatched her hair in a tight fist. "I have given you food, worm! Thank me for it!"

She spoke through clenched teeth. He had certainly torn hair from her scalp. "Thank...you.." Without warning he threw her to the ground, knocking her jaw against the stone floor.

"I don't want your worthless words, slave!" Oog'tar put his foot forward and waited expectantly. Tara spat the blood out of her mouth and glared angrily at the offending extremity. Slowly, she knelt forward, both knees on the floor and crouched as low as she could. She placed her lips against his toes which earned her a sharp swat across her rear.

Cheeks red with humiliation, she placed her mouth around one of his toes and sucked it clean. He had been in the boar pens. There was a foul taste and odor all over his feet and it took every ounce of restraint to keep herself from vomiting. She repeated the action with his remaining toes, saliva dripping from her mouth and down her neck.

As soon as she felt it safe, she backed away from him, curled against herself as she watched him walk away; laughing. Hot tears fell down her bright red cheeks and she spat as much of the dirt and foulness out of her mouth as she could manage. She couldn't even eat the apple he'd thrown at her. If she did, she'd almost certainly be sick all over the tiny cell.

The realization only made the tears come faster.


	3. Flashbacks - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometime during a present-day trade deal, Tarvasha runs into a familiar, disgusting face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short little blurb, but pretty dark. Infant death, mentions of rape, and quite a bit of nastiness ahead.

Durotar…

It was such a desolate, hopeless place on the surface.  Its natural resources were slowly slipping to nothing.  And yet, so many called it home.  Orcs, Trolls, Goblins, Tauren, even some Sin’dorei and Pandaren have made their place in such a land.  They raised families, built businesses, and fought to maintain their homes.

For Tarvasha, the land swept over her with a flood of emotions.  She traded with many there, and her contacts within and outskirting the city made moving goods a simple task, comparatively, of course.  In times past, she would enter the city, shrouded in hooded robes, to make her deliveries, always making sure to stop and leave a hefty satchel of gold for the orphanage.  There were a few who knew who she was and they kept trouble at bay, for the most part.

Within the last year, her trading has been orchestrated by a crew of goblins within the walls.  They always charged an outrageous sum, but having her shipments moved quickly was always preferable to saving a bit of coin.  This particular day, however, there had been a problem moving a shipment of iron that had come in from the Barrens.  It was a particularly important one to be traded for several large bundles of lumber from Ashenvale.  The deal had been lucrative enough.  She had expected there to be some interference.

What she _hadn’t_ expected was the degree of the interference.  Or the person behind it.

A crate, weighing more than it should have, was brought into the storehouse by her crew.  When the crate was opened, several young elven women, terrified to make a sound, were revealed.  As they helped the elves out of the crate, a great booming footfall entered the storehouse.

_“What the hell are you doing with my merchandise?”_

As the goblins rushed to pander to the orc-a decorated merchant granted honors under the reign of Hellscream-Tarvasha could only stare, transfixed and ill.  Underneath the gold bands and fine leathers was the same greasy, vile creature who made nearly seven years of her life absolute hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ _Oog’tar_...”  The words dripped from the young woman’s lips like bile.  She was dressed in filthy rags. vibrant burgundy hair tattered and strewn about her shoulders.

She was struck, a heavy slap sending her sprawling to the floor.  “ _When I come to visit you, **whore** , you show some respect_.”  Slowly, reluctantly, she pushed herself to her knees, crawling over to him and pressing her face into the dirt.  He gave a grunt and spat on her.  “ _Turn around_.”  A sob caught in her throat as she maneuvered around, tears dripping down her face even before he’d begun to use her.

“ _They told me you birthed two days ago.  You’re always as loose as a_ kodo’s _cunt afterward_.”  He grumbled and wrenched another sob from her as he decided to use a tighter orifice.  “ _They told me the child died.  Again_.”  She cried freely as he laughed at her.  “ _I could do you a favor and remove your womb.  No more dead babies.  No more loose cunts for Oog’tar_ …”  He grabbed the fiery locks and wrenched her up closer to her mouth.  He stank of old pork and stale beer.  “ _Would you like that_?”

She let out a whimper, nodded shakily.  He had been the fifth child she’d lost.  She couldn’t…handle it again.  Not again.  Never again.

Oog’tar laughed, running his slimy, patchy tongue over her shoulder.  “ _Well, if you want it so badly, perhaps I should leave you as you are.  This is far more entertaining_.”  An anguished cry was cut off by hopeless sobs as he finally finished with her.  As he turned to leave, a thought seemed to come to him.  “ _Oh, that’s right.  I was supposed to give you your meal…It seems I ate it myself on the way here.  Have to keep my stamina up, after all_.”  He barked out another laugh, patting his stomach and moving to stand on the dirty furs that made up her bed.  A smirk slid across his lips and he squatted down, relieving himself on top of them.

“ _Ah…There now.  You can have it back_.”  A trail of laughter echoed down the halls, drowning out the deep, sobbing wail of the broken woman on the filthy floor.                                                                                         

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guilt and disgrace flooded her mind and tears streamed down her cheeks as she fled the city.  She felt sick, leaving those women there.  Leaving the goblins, who seemed to be on the side of the old slaver, to sort things out.  But she was no hero.  She was no savior for them.  Oog’tar brought back the worst years of her life, and she would never be able to face him with any confidence.  Without dying inside all over again.

Safely in the forests of Ashenvale, she broke down, sobbing so heavily that she made herself sick.  She would do what she could to rearrange the shipment from far away, but she would not step foot within the walls again.  _Never again_.


End file.
